


falling is like this

by quietlyintoemptyspaces



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drowning, Episode: s02e04 Abomination, Gen, POV Derek, The Pool Scene, derek has abandonment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietlyintoemptyspaces/pseuds/quietlyintoemptyspaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fingers dig into Derek’s skin, would probably leave bruises if he wasn’t a werewolf, and the force he’s treading water now is almost desperate, but there’s nothing Derek can do. The paralytic toxin is still running its course, and wiggling his toes and twitching his fingers isn’t going to help any.</p>
<p>His life doesn’t flash before his eyes when they finally slip under again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling is like this

**Author's Note:**

> I listened repeatedly to Holly Brook's "Like Blood Like Honey" while writing this, but the title comes from a different song. Go figure.

“You want to catch your breath you want to get out

But as you surface you don’t really know how

How to live upon the solid ground

Sometimes it’s easier to let yourself drown.”

— Holly Brook “Like Blood Like Honey”

 

The sound beats an uncomfortable rhythm into Derek’s bones, too fast to be normal, even for Stiles, whose heart races almost constantly, save for those rare moments of intense calm and unnerving focus like preparing to sever limb from body, or watching an alpha die, or planning on dropping dead weight and facing down a kanima to call Scott. Even in sleep, Stiles’ heart beats too fast, and that’s a fact that Derek shouldn’t know because Stiles is sixteen, something that’s too easily forgotten in everything that keeps happening. Not that Stiles acts like he’s sixteen.

He can feel the sound echoing against his back where Stiles has pressed him tight to his chest, can feel the sob that refuses to come up with words that are barely truth. The panic is rising, breathing ragged in Derek’s ear, only half from the effort it took to drag him back to the surface, half from the thought that there’s no one to come for them save for a mythological lizard out for their blood who happens to be afraid of water. At this point, it’s either the kanima or drowning, and neither option is much to look forward to.

Stiles fingers dig into Derek’s skin, would probably leave bruises if he wasn’t a werewolf, and the force he’s treading water now is almost desperate, but there’s nothing Derek can do. The paralytic toxin is still running its course, and wiggling his toes and twitching his fingers isn’t going to help any.

His life doesn’t flash before his eyes when they finally slip under again. This is the third time for him, after all, since being pushed in, but Stiles clings to him, still kicking fruitlessly. It’s enough to keep them from hitting the bottom, but not enough to break the surface. Derek is good at holding his breath, has been holding it since he was sixteen and his first love burned the heart out of him, but Stiles’ air is escaping in bubbles past Derek’s cheek. It should be easy, just let him drop and Stiles could breathe again, take glorious, burning oxygen into his lungs, but Stiles just wraps his arm tighter around Derek’s chest.

When the cement gets closer rather than further and struggling upwards is too hard to do, Stiles lets his other arm fold around Derek, lets his head press into the back of his neck in what Derek thinks is some kind of wordless apology, and it makes no sense. Stiles is going to die because he can’t save Derek, can’t let go, refuses to let Derek drown, and it’s not right, because there’s no trust between them; they barely tolerate each other. And yet here they are, dying in a pool together, numb and aching limbs tangled in some backwards parody of a lover’s embrace. At least he won’t be alive to witness whatever cockamamie Romeo and Juliet story the local paper will come up with to explain the simultaneous deaths of an exonerated murder suspect and the Sheriff’s teenage son.

Derek’s lungs are beginning to burn, threatening to pull in oxygen even though there’s nothing breathable there; Stiles’ arms are slackening from their hold, brushing his shoulders and slipping free, but he’s not swimming for the top, just floating weightless and heavy at Derek’s back. This shouldn’t be happening.

His back slamming into the cement floor beside the starting platforms is enough of a shock for his lungs to start properly functioning again. Distantly, he registers the wet slapping sound as Stiles flailing and coughing up pool water next to him; he regains enough mobility to pull himself halfway up to rest against one of the platforms and watches Scott face off against the kanima. Stiles is leaned back on his shaking arms, twitching legs splayed out in front of him uselessly, but his cheeks are flushed with life, his eyes are red with chlorine, his lips are parted with breath and he’s alive. They’re both alive.

Stiles’ heartbeat is almost steady when he looks at Derek.

Derek doesn’t know what to do with this.


End file.
